


Don't Want Everything (He Wants It All)

by QuokkaFoxtrot



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Arena Tour, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rockstar Hermann, hermann does not eat paste, not paste, very vaguely implied PAST substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuokkaFoxtrot/pseuds/QuokkaFoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lights were on, shining down and bathing him in white and Hermann felt himself melt away.</p><p>Out here, he was The Marquis.</p><p>Out here, he ruled ingraciously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Want Everything (He Wants It All)

**Author's Note:**

> This all came from a conversation with [marshtwain](http://marshtwain.tumblr.com) about Hermann as a rockstar and part of my brain pinged and decided I wanted to see him as a Pretty Hate Machine era Trent Reznor figure. And now here we are.
> 
> Title from Head Like A Hole by Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> Beta provided by [marshtwain](http://marshtwain.tumblr.com). Who also did some _awesome_ art for it [here](http://quokkafoxtrot.tumblr.com/post/113339692194/dont-want-everything-he-wants-it-all-the-lights).

The lights were on, shining down and bathing him in white and Hermann felt himself melt away.

Out here, he was The Marquis.

Out here, he ruled ungraciously.

The crowd roared as the opening strains of _Politics, Poetry, Promises_ echoed through the venue and he strutted across the stage, forcing his pain into the song, sneering and snarling as he ripped through the lyrics. He felt the words booming back to him from a thousand different voices and it pumped him up. Setting the mic stand firmly in place in the centre of the stage, he lashed out and moved without fear of falling as he flicked the tails of his calf-length coat back and ground up against the pole.

He didn't bother with small talk with the crowd between songs, preferring to drink sullenly from a water bottle and catch his breath as the rest of the band prepared themselves.

 _Throat_ slipped into _Bridge of Garbage_ and the audience went wild, looking like a shifting sea of rage and frustration as he poured his soul into the performance. Tearing through _Impossible_ , _Defence Mechanism_ , and _Two Signatures_ , the pain came close to unbearable, shredding his throat as the lyrics approached screaming. Baseless, inarticulate roars that fell to silence as the lights cut out, giving him time to limp upstage and collapse on Raleigh's drum podium. 

They were only halfway through.

 _One more song_ , he told himself as he gulped water desperately. One more song and he'd get a break. One more song and he'd get another dose.

The lights slowly rose, and Mako looked at him, eyebrow raised in concern. He shook his head and waved her off, still panting from the exertion.

She nodded once and strode to the front of the stage. She thrust out her pelvis as her fingers plucked and slapped at the strings of her bass rounding the stage slowly as she aimed a challenging smirk at Tendo, who downed the last of his water and tossed the bottle.

Returning her challenge with a grin, he swung his guitar around and came to stand before her; high noon amidst the flickering lights of the stage and the cameras in the audience. Tendo waited for Mako to finish before countering with a riff of his own. 

The call-and-response zipped back-and-forth, the crowd lapping it up as they threw increasingly complex combinations at each other.

Grateful for the distraction, Hermann mopped at his brow and he rubbed at his leg until he felt able to stand again. Climbing up, he braced himself against a set piece and nodded to Raleigh who gave a quick one-two to get Mako and Tendo's attention.

Mako stuck out her tongue, grinning at Tendo as they worked together to turn the duel into the opening strains of _What Have You Done?_ Throwing her head back, she counted Raleigh in and then the spotlight was on Hermann.

He hung off the set piece, arm wrapped around the neck of a black horse, and for all the audience knew, it was a part of the act; the blasé indifference to propriety and societal expectations that the audience felt intimately. He was thankful they didn't know it was the only thing keeping him up.

That cat would be out of the bag soon enough.

The roughness of the song made a sharp drop into the frail, sweet outro and he let himself slump against the horse as the lights slowly dimmed. Mako and Tendo put their instruments on their stands and hurried offstage as Raleigh set his sticks down and rushed over to support Hermann.

"You smell dreadful," Hermann yelled over the din of the crowd as Raleigh lifted him off the back of the podium and helped him across the back of the stage.

"But I'm still pretty." Raleigh grinned. He passed Hermann off to Chuck and accepted a towel to dry off from a waiting stagehand before disappearing into a throng of people.

"I can walk, you neanderthal," Hermann griped, thwapping Chuck on the back of the head as he was swept up and carried across to the massage table.

"And every minute you spend walking out here is a minute you don't spend injuring yourself out there," snapped Chuck, as he sat and began digging his fingers into the tight muscle of Hermann's thigh. "Are you _trying_ to make this worse? Because that's what you're doing with all that 'dancing'."

" _Prick_ ," Hermann muttered, grimacing as Chuck found a particularly tender spot and rubbing hard. He took a bottle of water and waved his doctor over. "Just give it to me now, that way it will start actually _working_ by the time I have to go back on."

"You're really pushing it, Hermann," Pentecost said and passed the bottle of pills over. "Only _two_. And I'll want to see you in the morning for a full examination."

"Whatever," said Hermann, and poured two out, handing the bottle back before he downed the pills with his water.

Pentecost frowned as he walked away; Hermann rolled his eyes. As he was about to turn back, he noticed someone standing off in the shadows, holding a phone up to their mouth as they spoke quickly into it, eyes darting around as they took everything in.

"Who's that in the corner? New groupie?" Hermann asked Chuck, unable to look away from the spiked-up hair and ridiculously tight trousers.

"The little guy with the eyeliner?" Chuck asked and waited for Hermann to nod before continuing. "Dunno. He's got a VIP pass and he keeps talking into his phone. Hasn't hassled anyone, so nobody's kicked him out."

Hermann sniffed and took another drink. "Have someone find out what he's doing here." He shifted his leg, pleased to realise the throbbing had stopped. "Help me get back to stage, and have my cane ready when it's over."

"Plain black or the one with the flames?" Chuck asked, supporting Hermann back to the edge of the stage.

"The one with the skull," Hermann said absently, mentally running through the rest of the setlist to work out where he had to be active.

"Ah, that kind of night is it?" Chuck smirked. "So, I shouldn't have the little dude kicked out?"

Hermann looked over his shoulder, making unexpected eye-contact. The man startled, kohl-smeared eyes wide as he stopped talking into his phone and stared back, transfixed. "I'll deal with him when I get back."

He took hold of Mako's shoulder as they made their way back onto stage, leaning in close to talk to her and maintain the illusion that it was just a friendly touch, not a mobility aid. "Tonight's duel was excellent," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the screams of the crowd. "I have some ideas floating around in my head that may work with it; remind me to get a copy and work on it."

"Focus on tonight, Hermann," she said as they reached the row of basses; she picked one up, checking that it was in tune for the next song.

Hermann pulled a face at her and moved across stage, keeping his back straight and ignoring the weakness in his leg. He waved a hand at the audience, winding them up as he waited for Tendo and Raleigh to get in position.

The second half was, by necessity, shorter than the first. Once everyone was ready, they tore into _I'm Not Wrong_ , Hermann bouncing on his heels, belting out the lyrics at whipcrack speed before shifting straight into _World Wide Destruction_. He could feel Mako's bassline vibrating through his bones and Tendo's riffs blistering his skin as he screamed into the night. He savoured it; the way the audience soaked up every sneer and grunt and gave it back tenfold.

There was a brief break as Tendo changed guitars and Hermann led the crowd, stamping one foot and chanting _Ten-do Ten-do Ten-do_ until Tendo strutted to the front of the stage and struck the first chord of _Completely Fine_. Hermann draped himself over Tendo's back, holding the mic up close so they could both belt out the lyrics as one.

The pain was beginning to come back as the song finished, and he tried not to limp as he made his way upstage and sat at the base of the horse for the penultimate song. 

Thankful for his setlist foresight, he settled in to listen to the long, drawn-out instrumental opening, taking a drink and preparing himself for the subdued, solemn sweetness** of _Lord, I Was Right_. A hush fell over the crowd as he sang in low, melancholy tones and their voices rose up to meet with his as they each projected their own pain and regret into the night. 

At the end, the lights went out and then Mako was there, taking his arm and pulling him up. "One more song, Hermann," she shouted into his ear. "You can make it. Just one more song."

He nodded and made his way back downstage - limping, he couldn't help it - but by the time the lights came back on, he was standing tall in the centre of the stage and the pyrotechnics were going off as they ripped into _Ride It Into The Breach_. 

Everything went perfectly.

When they finished, Tendo collapsed on the stage, panting and grinning and whooping as the crowd cheered and begged for more. Mako danced in place, posing for a few people with cameras up the front before she put her bass down and knelt down at the edge of the stage to pass out her picks. 

Raleigh came down off the podium and handed out his sticks—one to each side of the stage as always—before Hermann directed him to take his setlist and give it to one of the girls in the front row.

He waved as he made his way off stage, forcing his knee to work as it should and gritting his teeth until he got into the wings where Chuck swept him off his feet once more and set him on the table. He was too tired to argue.

"I got your cane, but you're not going anywhere until I've had a go at your thigh," Chuck said, digging his thumbs in until Hermann gasped. "Bouncing is still dancing, mate."

"What am I supposed to do? Stand rigid in the middle of the stage?" Hermann spat, taking a bottle of water and downing half of it in one go. "They paid for a _show_. And I pay _you_ so I can give it to them."

"You've still got twenty more to go," said Chuck, frowning as he worked the muscle. "Just go a little easier on yourself so you can _get through them all.“_

"I'm not going to argue this with you," Hermann said, pinching the bridge of his nose between your fingers. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I'm done, but I want to see you early tomorrow—full session, no buts," Chuck said, pointing at Hermann with a stern finger.

"Is Pentecost gone?" Hermann asked, looking around the room and ignoring Chuck's ire. 

"He's back at the hotel. He'll have your sleep dose ready, don't worry." Chuck shook his head. "Little dude's still here somewhere."

"Hmm," Hermann hummed a noncommittal tone, and slid gingerly off the table. He took his cane and made his way to his dressing room, ignoring everyone until he had the kettle on and a teabag sitting in his cup waiting.

He was usually left alone—by now everyone knew about his post-show rituals—but, as he poured the water into the cup, he heard a knock.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the little man with the spiked hair, too tight jeans, and bright green eyes standing in the doorway and looking at him eagerly.

"Well, hello," he said and lowered himself into his armchair, pinning the man with a practised smile as he toyed with the head of his cane.

"Hi, I'm Newton Geiszler. The journalist from _Rolling Stone_? I'm supposed to be following you around for a week for a cover piece."

"Oh, that's who you are. A _journalist_ ," Hermann said, disappointment colouring his tone. He let his cane fall to the side as he slumped back in his chair. Picking up his tea, he gestured to a chair on the opposite side of the room. "Well, Newton, I suppose you'd better take a seat."

"Call me Newt and-"

"I think I'll call you Newton," Hermann interrupted, looking him up and down. "There's much to be said for a strong name. Newt's just so... _small_."

Newt looked taken as though he'd been slapped. His mouth opened without sound until he managed to snap it shut and stare at Hermann, a hint of challenge in his stance. "I'll take that as a hint that you don't want me to call you Herm?" 

Hermann narrowed his eyes at him.

"Uh, yeah, anyway, I was just dropping by to introduce myself. I'll be following you guys around for a week, on the bus, at some shows—sort of fly-on-the-wall, occasionally fly-in-your-face kind of thing," Newt said, drumming his hands on the door. "They told you I was coming, right?"

"I knew _someone_ was coming," Hermann said and took a sip. "Heaven forefend they should tell me _when or who_."

"Right," Newt said and when Hermann said no more, cleared his throat. "I, uh, guess I'll go introduce myself to everyone else." Newt glanced around the room as he turned to leave and paused when his eyes settled on the skull cane. "Is that the- That's the _pimp cane_. Did you think I was a _groupie_?"

Hermann wiped a hand over his face, shaking his head as he set down his tea.

"You know... the week hasn't started yet." Newt grinned as Hermann looked up. "I could promise not to open the piece with ' _Hermann Gottlieb wanted to bang me before he even met me_.'"

"It would have to be followed by 'and then _I opened my_ mouth'," Hermann said with a sneer. "Are you _trying_ to make this a hostile interview? I can have you barred from the bus." 

"Hey, no, I was just teasing, man," Newt said holding up a defensive hand. "It's kind of a huge ego boost, y'know? It's not every day you get the pimp cane treatment from _Hermann Gottlieb_." Newt ducked his head, smiling at Hermann from under his lashes. "Um, I should go say hi to everyone else. See you on the bus tomorrow." He slipped out the door, closing it behind, and Hermann could only stare in dismay.

The coming week was going to be _awful_.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I may have a follow-up in the works. No idea how long it will take.
> 
> For anyone who was wondering, I vaguely based the band roles on:
> 
> Hermann - Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails)  
> Tendo - John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers)  
> Mako - Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers)  
> Raleigh - Taylor Hawkins (Foo Fighters)
> 
> Emphasis on _vaguely_.


End file.
